


Not a moment too soon

by badwolf_doctor



Series: Verse: Can't no preacherman save my soul [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, M/M, Nick is a good friend, Nick is here briefly but he plays an important role, Rook gets a metaphorical kick in the ass, Unsafe Medical Procedures, Why is Rook in bed in everything I write?, boy I sure do like to put Rook through hell, lots of introspection, this is really self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolf_doctor/pseuds/badwolf_doctor
Summary: They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. Or in this case, until you're standing there watching it bleed out in front of you.Sharky comes to a realization while Rook clings to life; Rookhallucinatescomes to some realizations of his own.





	Not a moment too soon

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a short ficlet and then morphed into a 5000 word mess.

                Just because he could admit _objectively_ that Rook was attractive didn’t mean he was _attracted_ to him. Anyone with eyes could see that Rook was aesthetically pleasing; hat chiseled jaw and those honey-brown eyes so easy to get lost in, full lips and the softest looking hair. Those were undeniably attractive features, no matter who they were on. But the fact that Sharky could admit that Rook was attractive didn’t necessarily mean he found him attractive. He’d never really been attracted to men before; or at least, he’d never found one where the attraction was more than a passing fancy. Rook was the best person he’d ever met, of course he was going to like him; dude was kicking the shit outta the Seeds and Eden’s Gate, which endeared him to just about everyone. Besides, it wasn’t like he Sharky spent a good chunk of their travelling time staring at Rook’s (admittedly shapely) ass or wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through that soft hair or anything. Wasn’t like casual touches from the Deputy sent a thrill through him and left him aching for more. It wasn’t as if he worried about the Deputy when he wasn’t around, or as if he’d woken up more than once to the thought of Rook’s hands and lips roaming his body. Wasn’t as if more often than not, it was Rook’s name on his lips and Rook’s face he saw when he was alone and edging closer and closer to brink of ecstasy. He wasn’t in love with the Deputy. No, Rook was just his best friend, someone he’d do anything for; someone who, if anything happened to, he’d either break down completely or set the entire state of Montana on fire starting with the Seed’s and their cult…

Except, he **did** do all of those things…Shit, he _was_ in love with Rook, wasn’t he? Fuck, what was he supposed to do with that information? He couldn’t just walk up to Rook and say _‘hey po-po, I think I’m in love with you’,_ could he? No, that seemed like an idea that could go badly too many different ways. What if Rook didn’t feel the same? What would happen then? Would he push his best friend away? Would Rook hate him? Stop spending time with him? Stop looking at him with that mix of warmth and affection? He wasn’t sure he could live with that. Ugh! Why was this situation so complicated?!

 

“I think you’re over thinking it, Shark.” Nick’s voice cut into his small existential crisis. Shit! Did he say all that out loud?

“Yeah dumbass, you did say it out loud. But look, it’s not that complicated—you like Rook and I’m like 90% sure Rook likes you too, so just **talk** to him.”

 

That was easy for Nick to say. He was already married to an amazing and smokin’ hot woman and therefore didn’t have to worry about fucking up the only relationship he was scared of losing. No, Nick’s status was secure, while Sharky’s was, frustratingly unstable and potentially complicated. And even if he _wanted_ to take Nick’s advice, he couldn’t. Rook wasn’t even in town. He was out runnin’ around causing trouble for the Peggies or helping out around one place or another. He was always doing that sort of thing. That willingness to help was one of the things Sharky loved about him, and what made others like him as well. Even if, occasionally Sharky worried Rook was overextending himself (how much could one man do before he burned himself out? He hoped he never had to find out.)

Usually, when Rook left, he’d take Sharky or one of the others with him. But this time, even Boomer had been left behind. Sharky wasn’t the only one upset about being left, Boomer wasn’t any happier than he was, having taken up following either Sharky or Nick around and whining every so often—like now for instance.

“I know buddy, I miss him too.” Sharky said, scratching the dog behind one floppy ear. He’d been pissed that Rook had said ‘It’s just something I’ve gotta do alone’ then smiled and said, ‘I’ll be okay’ before waltzing out of Fall’s End like he didn’t have a care in the world; as if half the county didn’t want him dead. That asshole. At least he and Boomer could be miserable together. It was a small comfort, but he’d take what he could get. Rook had been gone for… _days_. He hadn’t even realized how long the Deputy had been gone. But Rook should have been back by now, or they should have at least _heard_ from him or something. The fact that the Deputy had been radio silent this long **and** was alone out there in the wild was terrifying. Sure, Rook could take care of himself, but he didn’t have anyone watching his back and even the best laid plans could go to shit at a moment’s notice.

“You think he’s ok?” He asked Nick. He’d staying in Fall’s End while Rook was gone instead of going off to do his own thing, mostly because besides Rook and Hurk, Nick was his closest friend. Plus, Rook had left from here and would likely come back here first. So, he’d passed the time by helping the Ryes with a few pre-baby home improvement projects. He and Nick had taken a break, run into town for a few things and decided to drop into the Spread Eagle for some much needed R&R.

 

The pilot looked up at him from over the top of his beer bottle. “Rook? Hell yeah, man. Dude’s a badass. Besides, he’d call if something was up.” Nick paused, flashing Sharky a sly grin. “If you’re so worried about him, **you** could call _him_.”

 

Sharky frowned, handing resting on the radio sitting on the table next to him. He didn’t wanna bother Rook, but he’d definitely feel better hearing Rook’s voice—even if it was just him telling Sharky to fuck off. “Maybe I will.” He snatched up the radio with more force than necessary; the familiar weight of it in his hand was comforting. It was his lifeline to Rook.

 

“Make sure you tell him you _looove_ him!” Nick teased.

 

“Fuck off, Rye.” Not the most mature response, but it made him feel better. Nick just laughed and Sharky turned a little in his chair to give himself the illusion of privacy, though he was aware of Nick watching him in amusement. Bastard.

“Hey Dep, know you’re probably busy but I’m just checkin’ in—you’ve been gone a long time and people are starting to worry about ya.”

 

Silence was the only response for a long time. If he wasn’t worried about Rook before, he was now. Rook was normally good about responding promptly. As the minutes ticked by, Sharky’s dread grew. And then finally, mercifully, the radio crackled to life.

 

“Hey, Sharky.” It sounded like Rook was speaking through clenched teeth, as if speaking was both exhausting and painful.

 

“Rook, hey man—you ok?” He tried not to sound too worried but he knew he was failing miserably, even Nick had picked up on his worried tone and how bad Rook sounded, setting his beer aside and leaning forward against the table, listening intently.

 

“Not really.” Rook sounded _awful_ and his breathing was not only audible over the radio but also labored. If he was hurt, that explained why he he’d been gone so long.

 

“Bad?” he asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

 Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!! Sharky practically leapt to his feet, noticing that Nick had done the same.

 

“Dep, tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.” He looked to Nick, who nodded. Good, wherever Rook was they’d get to him a lot faster by plane. The Deputy had barely finished giving them his location before Sharky and Nick were out the door and on their way to the airfield. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rook being out there, injured and alone.

 

“Fuck, he has to be alright.” Sharky said under his breath. Nick didn’t say anything as they prepared for takeoff. He didn’t try to reassure Sharky that Rook would be alright, that they’d get there in time. On the one hand, he appreciated the lack of platitudes—nothing was going to make him feel better until Rook was safe and in his sight. But on the other hand, he was a little pissed. The least Nick could do was try to make him feel better about someone he might _love_ likely bleeding to death in the wilderness. It was bad enough to think about potentially losing the Deputy when they were just friends. But to realize he maybe wanted to be **more** than friends with Rook only to lose him was unbearable.

 

* * *

  


  
                Rook was having a shitty week. It was the anniversary of his Gran’s death and something had made him want to go visit the place where he’d scattered her ashes. He’d planned on only being gone for a few hours, a day or two at most. He’d lost count of how many days it had been now—too many probably. He’d made it back to his cabin and to the shaded grove near it that was his Gran’s final resting place. Then, of course, he’d been ambushed by a group of Jacob’s judges and their handlers.

He’d ended up pretty mangled, but tried to lead them away from his cabin. He didn’t know how long it had taken to give them the slip, but he had and he’d finally made it back to his cabin. From there, he’d barricaded himself inside; he had enough weapons inside to keep himself safe—provided he didn’t pass out from his injuries.

Stumbling passed his half-assed kitchen remodel, he made his way towards the bathroom; there was a decent first aid kit in there somewhere. He wasn’t a medic, always better at breaking things than fixing them, but he’d had _some_ first aid training. He hadn’t gotten a chance to strip down and take stock of his injuries, so that was probably the first thing on his to-do list. Rook pulled his knife from where it was clipped to his pocket and began cutting off his ruined shirt as best he could; he was fairly certain his ribs were bruised, if not broken and there was no way he was pulling the shirt off over his head.

Underneath were a few scrapes and newly forming bruises, none that needed any stitches of real attention; that was good, he didn’t have the stuff to stitch himself up. The thing he was most worried about was the unfortunate bite on his thigh; it was bleeding like a motherfucker, even with the tourniquet he’d tied above it. Of course, that was the moment his legs gave out on him and he slid down the wall and into the floor, leaving a smear of blood in his wake. Shit.

If he died out here, he was going to die alone. While he’d always assumed he was going to die young in some sort of combat situation, he’d never imagined himself alone at the end; he’d always imagined there would be someone he loved with him in the end. If he died alone out here, nobody would know what happened to him. And who knew what would happen to Hope County in the aftermath of his death. All of his friends would probably think he abandoned them. Grace, Jess, the Ryes, Adelaide, Hurk and Sharky, all of them would likely think he’d just up and left them. That he’d decided _‘to hell with them and the Seeds’_ and just left. Rook couldn’t stand the thought of Sharky thinking he willingly walked away from him, left him in his shitty situation to fend for himself.

Rook couldn’t say his feelings for Sharky were love, but they were _definitely_ of a romantic nature. He cared so much for the other man that it was slightly terrifying. And if he died out here alone, he’d never get to tell him that. Wasn’t going to ever hear his voice again. Wasn’t going to get to see him again.

The world started going dark around him and then…

 

“You’re just going to lie down and die?” a voice pulled him back from the darkness. Cracking open an eye, he was surprised to see his Gran staring down at him.

“That doesn’t sound like the boy I raised; though you’re hardly a boy now.” She looked exactly how Cade remembered her. She’d always been on the short side, standing at only 5’2”; Cade had towered over her since the age of thirteen. Her hair was the same color as his, streaks of grey visible and draping down over her shoulders. She was wearing that familiar disappointed scowl that he’d been afraid of seeing as a child.

“You know,” she said looking around the room. “I always like this place. It’s fitting you ended up here—it suits you.”

 

All he could do was stare at her in shock. “You’re dead.” He said.

 

Her scowl deepened and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I am. And _you_ , Cade Henry, are getting ever closer to being that way yourself. Also, that’s no way to speak to your Gran.”

 

Rook couldn’t decide if he was actually dead or just hallucinating at this point. “Sorry.” He muttered, unable to withstand her disapproving stare any longer. She’d always had that effect on him; he had always hated disappointing her.

 

She sighed, kneeling down next to him. “You never did answer my question. Are you going to just lie down and die?”

 

Cade shrugged, grimacing as a bolt of pain sparked through him. “Seems like the thing to do.”

 

“And what about your friends?” she asked. “You just gonna leave them with a half-finished fight? And that man you were just thinkin’ of—you gonna give up on him, on love?”

 

He huffed, and yep, that hurt too. Jeez, was there anything that didn’t hurt? “Nobody knows where I’m at Gran— _he_ doesn’t know where I’m at. Everything hurts, and I know I’m not doing great here. Plus, I don’t even know if I do love him. Really like him? Sure. But love? I don’t know.”

 

She laughed, looking at him as if she couldn’t believe how dense he was. “Oh honey, trust me—you do.”

 

“I didn’t ask for this fight, you know?” he sighed. “Didn’t ask to be a part of Eden’s Gate’s holy war. Would it be so wrong to just give up? I did my best, isn’t that what matters?”

 

His Gran looked at him sadly. “None of us ask for the lots we’re given in life, sweetheart. Life is never easy. It hurts and more often than not, it kicks you around for no good reason. But you keep on going. You do the things you have to for the people you love—even when it hurts; even when you’d rather give up.” She reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes and he could almost feel her hand touch his face. God, he must be pretty out of it.

“Don’t give up on the people you love, and they won’t give up on you.” She said. “Besides you’re a Maza and we don’t leave things half-finished.” She paused, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you kiddo—now get your shit together, and don’t you dare die yet.”

 

He blinked and she was gone. Rook couldn’t help but dwell on what she’d said. Shit, he _was_ in love with Sharky. That’s why the thought of dying on him hurt so much. He was really, **ridiculously** in love. Fuck, he couldn’t just give up now.

Between the pain and the blood loss, he wasn’t sure what was real anymore. He swore he could almost hear Sharky’s voice….wait a minute, he wasn’t imagining it—that _was_ Sharky’s voice on the radio; he’d forgotten about his radio, it was still sitting where he’d left it in the other room.

He groaned, trying to pull himself up with bloodstained hands. Gritting his teeth, he gave up on trying to stand and instead began to crawl into the kitchen; reaching up to pull the radio off the counter.

 

“Hey, Sharky.” Rook wasn’t sure how many words he was going to get in before he blacked out again, but he had to at least _try_ to speak. Had to hold out hope for a chance to survive and see Sharky again.

 

“Rook, hey man—are you alright?” Trust Sharky to know when something was wrong.

 

“Not really.” Maybe moving was the wrong idea, if the difficulty breathing was any indication. But now that someone knew something was wrong, somebody would come to help. He gave Sharky his location and let the radio drop onto the floor next to him. Now all he had to do was just hold on a little longer; Sharky was on his way. Maybe he’d get a chance to tell Sharky how he felt; at least if he died then that would be one less regret he’d take with him. God knows he had too many as it was.

 

Rook was pretty sure he blacked out again because he woke to the sound of boots on hardwood. He still had his knife, pulling it out of its sheath and holding it out in front of him. It wouldn’t do much to protect him, but it was better than letting the judges finish the job. Through the haze, he recognized the figures that entered the cabin. He sheathed the knife with a relieved sigh.

“Sharky…”

 

The man in question looked as relieved to see Rook as Rook was to see him. The last thing Rook saw before blacking out again was Sharky’s worried expression drawing ever closer.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
                “Shit—Rook!” The Deputy looked like shit, far too pale and covered in so much blood it was a wonder he was evens still alive. But the pained groan he got when he knelt down and placed his hands on Rook’s face told him the man was (thankfully) alive. Sharky had never been a big believer in religion, but right now, he was thanking whoever or whatever was listening that Rook was alive.

“C’mon po-po, you can’t bail on me now. Please Rook, you gotta wake up.” Sharky could hear Nick rustling around in one of the other rooms, but couldn’t be bothered to focus on him; he couldn’t draw his attention away from Rook. He shook the Deputy less than gently and was rewarded for it by a muttered swear and brown eyes opening.

“Hey, Dep.” He brushed a thumb along Rook’s jaw line; the Deputy smiled at him, eyes a little hazy. “Nick, he’s awake!”

 

Nick entered the room from somewhere in the back, carrying something in his arms.

 

“Hey guys.” Rook’s voice was rough and unsteady, but he was awake—that was all that mattered right now.

 

Sharky sat back on his haunches, letting his hands fall from Rook’s face.

 

“You look like shit, Rook.” Nick said.

 

The Deputy laughed. “Feel worse.”

 

“Found a first aid kit.” Nick announced, setting it down on the floor next to Rook and Sharky.

 

“Most of my injuries are superficial—little worried about this one though.” Rook motioned to his leg.

 

“Tell us what to do.” Nick said.

 

Rook held out a knife to Sharky. “Need you to cut the pants leg up to where the belt is. Then it needs to be cleaned---then comes the hard part.”

 

Sharky looked from the knife in his hand to Rook and back. If he wasn’t so worried about the Deputy, he might make a comment about tearing Rook’s clothes off. “What’s the hard part?” he asked instead, carefully sliding the knife up Rook’s pants leg. The wound on his leg was pretty bad, but not as bad as it had looked before he could see it clearly. Something had taken a chunk out of Rook, and it was bleeding profusely. But unless they didn’t get the bleeding stopped, it wasn’t a life-threatening injury…maybe.

 

“It needs to be cauterized. So, I’m gonna need you to turn on the stove and heat the knife up. Oh, and don’t burn down my house.”

 

“Are you serious?” Sharky asked at the same time Nick said, “This is your house?”

 

Rook laughed softly. “Yes to both of those questions. I don’t have the means to stitch it up and if you don’t do something to stop the bleeding, the next time I pass out, I might not wake up.”

 

Sharky bit down the terror that welled up at Rook’s words, focusing instead on doing as asked. He was familiar with fire; comfortable with it in a way he wasn’t with most people. He had no problem burning things. But now he was being asked to burn Rook…and he wasn’t sure he could do that. He watched the blade of the knife heat up, aware of Nick in the background, helping Rook clean the wound out; passing him a dishrag from one of the nearby drawers.

He felt eyes on him, looking down to find Rook looking up at him; gaze pained by full of that familiar affection. Rook had always looked at him like he was important, treasured even.

 

“Hey,” The Deputy brushed a hand against Sharky’s shin. “It’s gonna be okay—I promise.”

 

Sharky’s response was a short bark of laughter that was more than a bit forced. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one telling _you_ that?”

 

Rook shrugged. “Probably, but you look like you needed to hear it.” He sighed. “Probably a lot of things you should hear; things I should tell you in case…”

 

“Don’t talk like that.” Sharky interjected. He didn’t want to hear any of that _‘in case I don’t make it’_ crap. “You can tell me whatever it is later. You’re gonna be fine.”

 

Rook chuckled. “See, you did get to say it.”

 

  
  
  
  
               

 

Rook had always been good at reading people, and he could tell Sharky was panicking, or at the very least was extremely concerned. And that wasn’t good. He needed Sharky to have a clear head, or at least a moderately clear head. He wasn’t looking forward to the whole _‘cauterizing the wound’_ thing—sticking a hot knife on an already tender place and burning it closed was going to fucking suck. But Rook did not survive this long, through wars and desperate days in deserts only to die here in middle of nowhere Montana from a wolf bite. And if this was what he had to do to survive (and it looked like this was his best bet), then he was gonna do it. Except that he couldn’t do it by himself. That was where Sharky and Nick came in.

 

“Hey Nick,” he looked over at the pilot, now hovering by the end of the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna need you to hold me as still as possible when he does this, ok?”

 

Nick nodded, moving around the edge of the counter and coming to stand next to him. “Sure thing, Rook.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

                Ok, Sharky could do this…No, no he couldn’t. “Rook, I…don’t think I can do this.”

 

The Deputy leaned forward, pulling Sharky closer by the front of his hoodie. “You _can_ do this, Sharky. I trust you with my life—which is coincidentally what’s on the line here.”

 

“Ok, ok…” Sharky took the knife off the stove as Rook stuffed one of the dishrags Nick had handed him earlier into his mouth to bite down on. “You ready?” he asked.

 

Rook nodded, shifting to that Nick could hold him down.

 

It was now or never. “Ok.” Sharky took a deep breath before pressing the knife against Rook’s thigh. His screams were muffled by the dishrag, but Sharky’s heart still broke at the sound of it. He knew he had to do it to keep Rook from bleeding to death; but still, hurting Rook didn’t sit easy with him. The Deputy must have passed out at some point during the cauterization process because the only sound was the sizzling of flesh. What if this didn’t help? What if it only made things worse? What if he had to sit here and watch Rook die? With shaking hands, he took the Deputy’s pulse; it was thread, but it was there. And he was breathing; it was a small victory, but if Rook was alive, it was a victory all the same.

 

“I don’t think we should try to move him too much—maybe just into the bedroom.” Nick said. “Think he’s still gonna need a doctor, so I’ll track down Doc Lindsay and go grab him and come back; you keep an eye on Rook, ok?”

 

Sharky managed to tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of Rook’s chest long enough to nod. Nick’s idea was probably the wisest one they could make. Very gently, the pair of them pulled Rook to his feet, one under each arm and moved him into the bedroom. Sharky never thought he’d find himself in Rook’s bedroom and once Nick was gone, he took the time to examine the room. It was sparsely decorated; a bed and dresser, a nightstand with a photo of an older woman and a young boy on it and a bookshelf with several trinkets and a handful of books on it were the only things in the room. The Deputy had insinuated they spent all their time at work, and from the state of the cabin, it looked like that was true. But somehow, it was very much Rook. It looked exactly like what he’d imagined Rook’s house to look like.

Sharky took a second look at the photo on the nightstand; it must be Rook and a family member. A grandma, maybe? Also on the nightstand was a pair of dog tags. Like most things, Rook didn’t talk about his past much but it was obvious that he’d been a soldier—it was in the way he moved, how he did what needed to be done without complaint; how he ran headlong into whatever trouble came up so that others didn’t have to. The dog tags must be Rook’s. Curiosity gripped him as he picked them up, turning them over in his hand.

_‘Maza, Cade H’._ It read at the top, followed by his social security number. Under that it read, ‘ _O positive_ ‘ and under that, ‘ _no pref’_. Idly, he wondered what the ‘H’ stood for. Wondered if Rook would ever open up, even a little bit. There were a lot of things he didn’t really know about Rook; a lifetime’s worth of small things that made him into the man he was now, into the man Sharky was more than a bit crazy about.

Setting the dog tags back on the dresser, he looked back at the Deputy sprawled on the bed, breathing steady and even. He knew he loved him, and he knew Rook was alive; everything else could keep until later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

                The next thing Rook remembered with any clarity was waking up in his bedroom. It was strange to be back in his own bed after everything that had happened. Every single part of him felt like it had been run over repeatedly by a big rig. “Ow…” he couldn’t stop from groaning as he tried to sit up; giving up halfway through and settling for sort of bracing himself against the headboard.

Before he could really register what was going on, another figure dropped down onto the bed next to him, wrapping its arms around him. Rook winced at the touch, his body protesting the contact.

 

“Sorry!” Sharky let him go, sitting back. “Sorry, I know you gotta be sore. I’m just really glad you’re awake.”

 

Now that Rook could see Sharky properly, he could see how rough the other man looked; dark circles under his eyes giving Rook the impression that he hadn’t slept recently.

“How long have I been out?” Rook was surprised by how rough his voice sounded. He probably shouldn’t have been considering what he’d been through; the only thing that _should_ be surprising was the fact that he was alive at all.

 

“A couple of days.” Sharky replied. “Nick brought the Doc up earlier. He gave you a transfusion—luckily we’re compatible. Stayed long enough to make sure you were ok, and then Nick took him back to the prison. It’s just you and me out here now.”

 

“Guess I owe you one.” Rook commented.

 

Sharky ducked his head, blush spreading across his cheeks. It was adorable. “You don’t owe me anything, Dep. That’s what friends are for, right? It wasn’t anything special.”

 

Sharky might not have thought what he’d done was special, but to Rook it was. The fact that he’d come all the way out here to save Rook’s dumb ass meant the world to him.

 

“Maybe not,” Rook placed a hand atop Sharky’s where it sat on the bed. “But thank you all the same.” He _could_ have just given up and let himself slip into the warm embrace of death. But he couldn’t ignore the worry and fear in Sharky’s voice—couldn’t just _leave_ him. So, he’d fought. Because Rook would do anything for Sharky. He didn’t know when it had happened. One minute, he was mildly amused by Sharky’s antics, and then in the next, he was head over heels in love with him. Sharky could say what he wanted about Doc Lindsay saving him, but Rook knew his survival was because of Sharky.

 

“Why’d you come out here alone anyway?” Sharky asked.

 

Rook shrugged. “My Gran is the reason I moved up here, she raised me. It was the anniversary of her death. I felt like I needed to come out here and I don’t know, pay my respects or something. And because I’m not great at sharing my emotions, I wanted to be alone. It was stupid, I know. Don’t worry; I won’t be doing that again.” Rook added with a smile. Next time, he’d at least bring Boomer.

 

Sharky turned his hand over in Rook’s grasp, calloused fingers tracing patterns into his palm. “I’m glad you’re ok Rook.” Sharky reiterated. “I was really worried about you.” That was surprisingly honest.

 

“Sorry I made you worry.” He replied. Sharky, to Rook’s surprise, leaned closer, reaching out to tuck a few loose strands of Cade’s hair behind his ear’ fingers brushing against Rook’s cheek.

Rook blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t still unconscious and dreaming…Nope, he was awake; even if he couldn’t quite believe it. This was _very_ real; the warmth of Sharky’s finger against his cheek is what grounded him in the moment. Sharky was unbelievably warm and smelled like cedar and smoke. God, he was so in love with this man. It was the clearest thought in his head; the only thought that made any sense. The whole world had gone crazy, but that at least made sense. It had been a long time since anyone had been gentle with him; he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. It was nice and left him with a warmth in his chest that he was beginning to associate with Sharky.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

                Sharky hadn’t intended to actually _touch_ Rook, but now that he **was** , he couldn’t seem to stop. Rook was here, with him. Awake and alive. He could see and hear Rook, feel his heartbeat. All Sharky wanted to do was to continue to be here with the Deputy. To be closer to him. And with the way Rook was looking at him…maybe Rook felt the same?

“Hey Dep?” His fingers were still tracing Rook’s jaw line, calluses catching against the stubble there; the Deputy leaning into his touch, like an overgrown cat.

“Got a question for you.”

 

“What’s on your mind, Sharky?” Rook was smiling, looking at him with such fondness that he couldn’t help but marvel at it.

 

“Do you think I could kiss you?” To be honest, he’d been thinking about kissing Rook since before he’d realized he was in love with him. There was just something fascinating about Rook’s lips; they looked soft, a little chapped on occasion, and right now they were split but the point remained. Plus, now seemed like as good a time as any to test the waters. Especially since he knew that nothing could be as bad as the thought of Rook not knowing how he felt.

He’d expected the Deputy to look at him like he was crazy, or to tell him ‘no’ or anything other than stare at him like he couldn’t believe Sharky was real.

 

“Yes.”

 

Sharky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Rook just agree to let him kiss him? “What?” he must have looked stupid sitting there blinking owlishly, mouth ajar.

 

Rook laughed softly. “You asked if you could kiss me and I said yes—you can, in fact, kiss me; I’d like that a lot.”

 

Oh, well, that cleared things up a bit. Sharky barely registered Rook reaching up and taking his hat off him; he was far too focused on the curve of Rook’s lips and the frantic pounding of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. “Ok…” he said finally, leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to Rook’s.

He was very careful to not touch the Deputy—the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him. Rook, on the other hand, had his free hand tightly gripped in Sharky’s hoodie. And judging by the way he was kissing Sharky like he needed him to breathe, he’d put some thought into hissing him before.

Sharky certainly wasn’t going to complain about anything. Not only way he getting to do something he’d wanted to do for a while (and enjoying the hell out of it) but Rook was _willingly_ kissing him back and **damn** was he good at it. Sharky would admit to being more than a little dazed when they parted.

“Damn…”

 

Rook was smiling again and Sharky had to fight down the urge to kiss him again. “Is that a ‘ _good_ ’ damn or a ‘ **bad’** damn?” He asked.

 

“Definitely a ‘ _good_ ’ damn, po-po.” Sharky answered, heart skipping a beat as Rook’s smile widened.

 

“Well, good. I’d hate for it to be a **‘bad’** damn.” Rook said.

 

Sharky chuckled. “You need to get some rest, Rook.” As much as he’d love to do nothing more than sit here staring into the Deputy’s eyes (and maybe ~~definitely~~ kissing him some more), the only way Rook was gonna heal was is he got some sleep.

 

“Stay with me?” Rook asked. “Bed’s big enough for both of us—and hate to tell you this, but you’re not lookin’ so hot yourself.”

 

Sharky eyed the spot on the bed next to Rook. Lying down _did_ sound great—lying down with Rook sounded **amazing**. “Yeah, alright—you win.”

 

“Good.” Sharky was surprised when Rook leaned in again and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

 

He moved around the bed and settled down next to the Deputy, who carefully repositioned himself with a contented sigh.

 

“Night, Sharky.” Rook said.

 

“Night, Rook.” He echoed, tucking himself in as close to Rook as possible; falling asleep easily.


End file.
